


Foundations

by officialusa



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timeline, And also really pissed off, Basically imagine Mohinder as Sylar, Caffeine and bad feelings, Can we call it that?, Gabriel is Bad at Feelings, He's probably planning to rid the world of the human plight or something, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I feel like that's something he might do, I shall nuture it, I use the term alternate timeline loosely, I'd say that Mohinder obviously still has his powers from s3, It's a difficult concept to explain, Let's call it that, Other, Personality Swap, Post Butterfly effect, This is my teeny tiny dream child, Why is the heroes fandom so small, Work In Progress, it's basically me trying to bullshit my way around certain cannons events to justify my story, ok, season three probably, so the timeline will be more or less the same up until that episode
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officialusa/pseuds/officialusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>foun-da-tion<br/>noun<br/>1.<br/>the basis or groundwork of anything: the moral foundation of both society and religion.<br/>2.<br/>the natural or prepared ground or base on which some structure rests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brooklyn, New York, midnight.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a really weird sort of... Thing. It's definitely going to undergo some more editing once it's finished, and I'm really not sure how to write Gabriel, but we can run with this idea and see how it goes. Feedback is always a godsend, so I'd love to hear anything you have to offer. 
> 
> This is a personality switch fic (Mohinder as the Antagonist and vice versa) So there will be a lot of me blagging my way around certain conversations and stuff. 
> 
> Enjoy the thing, guys!

Poetry, politics, superstition; All of these things were lies. Numbers were the closest thing Gabriel had to the truth, to the answers he sought. Numbers were what would eventually unravel the mystery left behind by the older Suresh. No one could ever convince Gabriel that fate had had a hand in his life. Everything he had achieved in the course of his existence was of his own making, good and bad. Mohinder had always been somewhat less sceptical. Naturally, he was a believer. He wanted someone else to blame his problems on, and he had done a spectacular job of fooling the others into a similar mindset Nevertheless, he had made it his job to save the world. He would find a cure for this disease before Mohinder could go through with his plans. Yes, ordinary people could be strange, petty, fickle and generally unpleasant, but they deserved to live in a world where they were subjugated and discriminated against about as much as those with strange powers were.

Even so, as the hours wore on, he didn't seem to be any closer to breaking the encryption. No closer than Suresh had been at the time. It made no sense. There was no logical pattern to the formula, no code to crack. The longer he stared at the screen in front of him, the lines of coding swimming in front of his eyes, blurring into one another, the more hopeless it felt. He didn't have a clue why he was doing this, chasing loose ends, begging people to listen to him even when the search seemed fruitless, even when it seemed as if none of them would. It was all rather hopeless, yet there was something that kept him here. A glimmer of light in the distance, maybe, more likely a sense of obligation to keep these people safe.

With a tired sigh, and an ever so heavy heart, Gabriel decided it was time for a break. He poured himself a mug of something warm to soothe his aching neck. He shouldn't spend so long sat in one position, he knew. The heat would warm his hands, and he would slowly began to loosen up. It was difficult to constantly feel like a coiled spring. Mohinder's voice echoed somewhere in the back of his mind as he paced around the room.

**_"What is this? It's good,"_ **

Earl Grey, of course. Special blend, and he recalled telling his acquaintance as much.

He needed caffeine, and plenty of it, his antidote to any stray thoughts of Mohinder that might wander through ones mind late at night, in the sweltering heat of a city plagued by grey clouds. The kettle steamed, blistered, burned, like the cold fury that raced beneath his veins. The hatred continued to mount alongside his determination as he pictured those brooding hazel eyes, and how he had led Mohinder straight to his latest victims. He had unknowingly brought about the deaths of two people, and endangered all those he had begun to forge relationships with. The painter, Mendez, The entire Petrelli family. For a man tasked with protecting these incredible people -off his own back, at that- he seemed to be doing very, very badly.

Gabriel had begun to look like a man with the weight of more than just a set cryptic clues left by an old scientist who had cared for nothing other than his own morbid curiosity, resting on his shoulders. The strain spread from the dark circles beneath his eyes, to the hollow, pale skin that contoured his cheeks. He had never been renowned for his health, but this was an entirely different matter. He was just so tired, weighed down by his anger and hatred. It was difficult to continue down the path he considered righteous when he had never lusted for conflict and bloodshed quite as much as he wished - In the most painful of ways- for this man's demise.

Shake it off. He was doing this for the greater good. Of course he was. 

Steam billowed from the expensive bone China as he set the mug down on the table. Sometimes the quality of it made all the difference. At least this Wedgewood rubbish made a nice sound. That was almost enough to make up for the painstaking process that went into cleaning and preserving the crockery. Gabriel blinked, practically feeling his mind begun to wander. The clock chimed midnight as he settled down for what looked set to be a long, restless night, and in the dingy, empty apartment, even the slightest sounded just a little too loud, echoing just a bit too much. His two shadows had agreed to stay elsewhere for a few weeks. It wasn't safe now Mohinder knew exactly where to find him, but he missed the companionship that Matt provided. The officer seemed to have cheerful optimism written into every cell in his being.

The tea left a bitter aftertaste as it scalded it's way down his throat.


	2. Lower Manhattan, New York, Midday.

Power hungry, seemed, to the young Doctor, like a dirty little phrase. No, Mohinder Suresh much preferred terms like ‘innovative’ and ‘messiah’, when those around him cared to use them. Either way, he wasn’t fussy- rather, long overdue the respect of his peers. This man had a grand plan, and a view of himself through the eyes of a god. It wasn’t merely that he placed himself a pedestal, Gabriel saw it too, he knew well enough. He had been blessed with these powers for a reason. He'd be damned rather than waste what destiny had provided for him. He would be resourceful and use it well. It would be more than a means to an end. 

Yes, this was all thanks to Gabriel’s unique talent for helping people see their true potential for destruction. 

Now, with his sanguinolent thirst, and November bringing a killing frost, he had a new season of his own to bring about. A season of revolution and natural selection. People to meet, greet, and heinous acts of murder to commit. There was something about the permanence of death that continued to appeal to him. People like them could and would survive. They’d be a master race, of sorts. ‘Natural selection’ would come for the old, the sick, and the weak.  
A symphony played in the background, a melodious, uplifting rhythm that played well with his thoughts. He twirled, a laugh dying on his lips. Joy became something darker, a haze of black and his own anguish. Pulling at his own hair; Tearing, ripping. To feel something other than the filthy anxiety that wriggled its way beneath the surface of his skin. He wanted desperately to peel and scrub his skin to the bone in the hope that the scratching sensation would come away with it.

Maya had promised she wouldn't knock before a sensible hour. Perhaps he hadn’t been coherent in his instructions. The thumping of her fist against the door persisted, echoing again and again in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure quite why he found it so irritating, but it certainly didn’t seem to be getting any better. It continued to slash at his nerves, one by one, until all he could see was the blinding scarlett film in front of his eyes. With one, fluid motion, every single paper that had previously been balanced precariously on the edge of the desk fluttered to the floor, blown on a harsh winter wind. The desk followed, then the chair. Mohinder’s breath was laboured as he surveyed the carnage he had created, splintered wood and a flurry of white, splinters in his palms and beneath his nails. It took his blunt fingernails shredding at his scalp, chips of wood gouging into the tender skin, to draw him out of his amaurotic rage.

They had to act fast, before Gabriel could get wind of his plans. Hell, if they hadn't had to stop for Parkman to catch up, they could have been at stage three already. As fond as Mohinder was of the man and their little girl, they were an unnecessary burden. They slowed him down more than he cared to admit. Much like he had been, Isaac Mendez, like Maya and Alejandro Herrera were, they were expendable. Important, yes. Interesting, it was unquestionable. No matter what the power, he was prepared to make sacrifices to further his plan. He hadn't ever claimed to be a fair and just god, after all. 

The girl gawped at him from the door, her eyes practically bulging. None of them saw him as a threat, for now, and he intended to keep it that way. He shrugged the ordeal off, allowing a smile to light up his features.  
“Lovely to see you, Maya. Apologies, I…you know, anger management,” He nodded to the desk, now split into two halves. “What can I do for you?”  
Naturally, she was weary, closing the door quietly behind her. "Doctor Suresh, I need to talk to you about the serum,"

Mohinder very nearly rolled his eyes. The serum, of course. It was always about the serum. She couldn't seem to see the true value of her abilities. WIth or without her brother, she was a precious, near rare asset to his cause. She would do well in the new world, if only she would learn.  
"The serum. Of course,"

She would learn soon enough.


End file.
